To Become a Child of Night
by Aerus
Summary: A series of one-shots and vignettes, picturing what our characters might have been doing when not in limelight. Various ratings and pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** To Become a Child of Night

**Rating:** Various

**Genre:** Drama/General

**Disclaimer:** _Tanz Der Vampire _and its characters belong to Roman Polanski, Jim Steinman and Michael Kunze. This fanfic is written simply for entertainment and I gain no financial profit by writing this.

**Summary:** A series of one-shots and vignettes, picturing what our characters might have been doing when not in limelight. Various ratings and pairings.

**EDIT 17/4/2012: **_What started as a series of unrelated one-shots has already starting to flesh out as something with a resemblance of more connected storyline (although one still cannot speak of a fanfic with some definite goal). In short, this thing isn't really what I planned "Seasons of Forever" to be, nor does this collection fit that particular idea. As such, I have decided to change the name because it doesn't really connect to what I'm doing here._

* * *

**A/N: **We know what happens at the inn after Krolock takes his leave. But what does he do after disappearing into the darkness?

I'm not completely happy with this one - consider it as some sort of warm up for what is to follow. Rating: T

* * *

It's not much later after the scene in the inn's bathroom when Count von Krolock lands at the gate of his old home. It is a great pleasure, to be able to move so swiftly, feeling lighter than the air; it's the closest to freedom he can feel. Quietly, he remembers the night he discovered he could fly, and the unexpected rush of enthusiasm he felt when he stepped to the sky. He can't help but smile fondly as he recalls Herbert's reaction to that particular vampiric ability.

He can hear his son's voice before he even enters the castle. Apparently Herbert has decided it's time to clean up the castle – or at least the ballroom – for the yearly dark celebration. The Count himself doesn't mind the cobwebs too much, but Herbert just has these ideas sometimes, and as long as it makes the boy happy...

By the sounds coming from inside, Herbert appears to be supervising the cleaning of chandeliers. Being a son of an aristocrat and used to his position as the castle's little princeling, the boy himself doesn't participate the actual cleaning: he merely shouts orders and complaints when he thinks something isn't going as it should.

Krolock stops at the double doors that lead to the ballroom, observing his son for a while before announcing his presence. Herbert is radiating with enthusiasm as he inspects his surroundings. Somehow, even after hundreds of similar balls, he is still able to feel excited about it – even if the planned meal is a girl instead of some pretty young man. Unless...

He thinks of the two strangers at the inn; he hadn't seen their faces, but he knew they were there. Even if Koukol hadn't told him of the two strange men, their unfamiliar scents and their apparent interest towards the children of the night would have sent Krolock's mind racing with plans.

"Vater! Where have you been?" Herbert exclaims when he finally spots the Count by the door, disrupting Krolock from his schemes.

"I was... planning a surprise for you", the older vampire dodges the question. For some reason, he doesn't want to tell that he has arrived straight from a young woman's bathroom... Not that his son would disapprove of such behavior – as a matter of fact, Herbert approves of sneaking into bathrooms very much – but the boy also likes to tease him about it.

Herbert looks at the Count curiously.

"A surprise? What kind of surprise?" he asks.

"Now, it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you", Krolock answers, for once enjoying the advantage of knowing something his son doesn't. Usually, it's the other way around.

"But you alrady did! Sort of... Vati, what it is?" Herbert demands to know and grabs the Count's sleeve anxiously. For a moment, Krolock merely enjoys his son's curiousity and exasperated face.

"I should go and make some special preparations for our ball. I believe the main course will be soon arriving. If you'll excuse me..." he says, pretending unaffected.

"Vater!" Herbert exclaims, shaking the Count's hand with growing frustration. The older vampire lets out a low chuckle.

"I am fairly certain that this year's ball shall be nicely provided for" he says finally. "You should be prepared for very special guests."

"Guests? What sort of guests? Are they pretty? Are they boys? Can I have one? Vati, tell me!" Herbert demands.

"You will see soon enough, son", Krolock answers with a smirk and strides for his castle's wall, smiling to himself as he listens to his son's irritable bristling.

_Yes. It shall be the most interesting ball. _


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Come second act, Sarah tells Alfred that she "is already a grown-up". This is one interpretation what she might mean by that, although I do not claim it is the only way Sarah's words can be understood. Personally, I don't think this is very romantic piece (more on that in the next chapter), but I suppose it can be read as such if one wants. Rated: M.

Also, see the first chapter for update on this piece.

* * *

For as long as Sarah can remember, he has been there. A shadow at the edge of her mind, the voice in the dark, the calling of the freedom that has been getting stronger for some years now. She doesn't know whether she should be scared or not as she wanders the long halls and dark corridors of his castle. She clutches the red shawl tight, wondering whether the coolness and dark ever bother him. Yet she can still see the richness of the shadowy castle, even if it is dark and foreboding: the pillars, the curtains, the painted glass, the gargoyles that seem so real they could step down any moment... It's everything and nothing she has imagined.

The castle is quiet as she drifts, and she wonders if he lives here all alone. Still, every now and then she hears whispers and she looks back. There's no one there.

Sarah clutches her shawl and shivers.

When he appears, he is all grace and mystery, pale as the moon and dark as the night. There is something dangerous about him, but it doesn't bother her - it is the other way around. Sarah is that kind of a girl, after all. She feels as if he's a kindred spirit who understands her wish for freedom and her untold passions, answering them with intensity that equals or perhaps even surpasses her own.

He finds her easily in this labyrinth of a castle, as if he knew always where she was. Maybe he does. After all, they do say he reads your thoughts and knows your heart just by looking. His voice is rich as he calls her and she answers, unable to hold back anymore. Then again, it's not like she ever wanted to hold back. It was the obligations forced on her that held her _there. _He leads her through the hallways and corridors, and she follows; suddenly, it's not so dark. Somehow, his presence seems to illuminate the darkness, although not in a way you can _see.  
_  
Sarah doesn't know how they come to the bedroom: all of a sudden, she is aware of the small, beautifully decorated room. The colours there are stronger and richer. The curtains adorn the windows and wallpapers are deepest of red. There is a bed, wider than that of her parents, with the dark golden covers pulled back, and only the flames from the fireplace illuminate the room. It's pleasantly warm, contrasting the chilly corridors.

His nails are long and sharp, and she realizes he could even inflict damage on her if he wanted. Yet when he works on the buttons and lacings of her dress, he never hurts her. Rather, the slight scraping of his nails is pleasant upon her skin.

She never expected his gifts and promises to come free. Despite seeing so little of world, she knows how it works. And she knows he's a nobleman - men of his status sometimes have mistresses like her. Sarah is not reluctant: he's not unpleasant to look at, and if this is the price of her freedom, so be it. She'd rather be his mistress than end up like her mother. Better to have the master of a wealthy castle as her lover than a simple inn-keeper, she muses. Still, she shivers when he finally pulls her dress down. She has never felt quite so exposed and she tries to cover herself, but he pulls her arms away. There is something very careless about the way he pushes her over to the bed and suddenly she is just a little bit scared.

The sheets are creamy white and feel cool against her back. There's a slight musty smell, as if no one has slept here in a long time. She watches him quietly, nervous and excited at the same time. She knows what is about to happen, yet she has no idea of what to expect or feel.

The rest of his body is just as pale as his face and his hands. He is lean, and his movements are graceful beyond imagination. She forgets about his gauntness when he moves, and the the way flames colour his pale skin is oddly beautiful. His hair falls down all the way to the small of his back, finer and more smooth than hers will ever be. In this light, his eyes seem almost black. His eyes, intense and sharp, never leave her. His is ethereal yet somehow tortured beauty.

His nails make the first contact, scratching gently at her skin. Then Sarah feels his fingertips, cool and precise as they glide over. She had expected him to just take what he wants, but now there is unawaited gentleness about him. His hands wander over her, always so peculiarly cool, feeling the mounds of her breasts and exploring the length of her limbs. His nail lingers in that small hollow on her neck. His teeth are there too, nibbling at her earlobe and the tender flesh of the crook of her elbow, making her tremble with pleasure. The tip of his nose brushes the valley between her breasts, he breathes in her scent deeply and she gasps. His hands are sure and controlled as he touches her, and the things he makes her feel nearly drive her over. His hair falls down over his shoulder like a curtain of the finest dark silk and she touches it with trembling fingers – she has never quite felt anything so soft.

His movements turn harsh as he grabs her wrists, locking them inside an iron grip. His nails almost pierce the skin on her hands as he holds her down. Sarah is too scared and nervous to free her hands, so she just lets him has his way. Maybe he likes it rough. Some men do, she has heard. Sarah is not quite as ignorant and innocent as her father would have liked her to be.

He never kisses her, not even when he finally takes her. He's not rough, but not exactly gentle either, and Sarah bites back tears. She can't cry now, not here. Maybe this is just how it is and her place is to bear it. She feels his cool, quick breath on her neck and on her ear, and the low groans deep from his throat distract her from the discomfort. And then she begins to feel something more, until the ache deep inside turns red-hot, pain becomes pleasure and she can see the stars.

* * *

He is gone when she wakes up.

The embers in the fireplace are dying, but Sarah is not cold. She feels sleepy and warm, and she's safely curled inside the sheets and covers. He is gone, but she can see he has been there beside her. She thinks she can still see the slight hollow his head has made on the pillow. It is more than that: she can still smell him on the sheets, on her skin. She can still _feel _him.

And there, on her right breast, she finds two tiny wounds.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **After he has kept his promise to make a woman out of her, Sarah falls asleep and he leaves. Only, this is a promise that brings no happiness for him, as Herbert finds out in this piece.

* * *

Being a vampire, it is easy to become condescending and contemptuous towards humans: the heightened senses certainly make the younger vampires often feel so. Suddenly, you can see and hear and smell things you never even knew existed. The beating hearts of the living, the tiniest crawlings of all sorts of animals, the scents - _oh, the scents - _and, what Herbert von Krolock personally finds rather funny, the way how even the darkness stops being _dark_.

Still, there are moments when he's not entirely overjoyed about being able to notice these things. Certainly one such time is when you can precisely tell when your father has been intimate with someone. Not that he disapproves of it; he's actually pleased when his father decides to have some fun, but it's not excatly something you _want to know, _no matter how many centuries you live with someone.

Count von Krolock enters the library and Herbert lifts his eyes from his book. He notices the slight flush on his father's face, and the scent of intimacy is unmistakable. He has had blood. It makes Herbert yearn, too, but not exactly for a girl... he thinks of that cute young man who just arrived this night, just like Vati had said before, but contains his desire. Vater has promised he can have his way with this Alfred later, which makes Herbert feel like those times back in his childhood, when Vati would bring him unexpected gifts, like fashionable clothes, exquisite fabrics, flowers, delicate sweets... Herbert never says it out loud, but he suspects it's Vati's way of saying "I'm sorry"... Herbert has explained it before, but Vati doesn't seem to understand that there is nothing to apologize for.

"So she's here then", he says, mostly to just start a conversation. There's something about his father's eyes that seem to ask for sympathy; not exactly something you expect to see after sexual activity, but then again, Herbert's father has always been a bit odd in most things. "Did you take her life, Vati? Or did you turn her?"

"I did not. She is sleeping", his father answer as he heavily sits down on his chair by the fire. It was the way they had spent numerous nights, sitting on opposing chairs, both engrossed in their respective things. For Herbert, it was often something like dress designs, while the Count would read. Now, however, his father would not pick up his book.

"What is wrong, Vati?" Herbert asks. He has become quite apt in sensing his father's moods, which definitely is useful when one lives with someone like the Count. The older vampire rarely speaks of his emotions, so divining what is going on in his mind is often left to be discovered by other means. Herbert understands his father well enough to know it's not because of distrust; Krolock has merely lived in a time when such things weren't something one shared with one's offspring, and in any case, the older vampire regards – or at least wishes to regard – his feelings as something of little consequence.

"It is nothing. Do not worry for me, son", Krolock says, rubbing his temple wearily, and Herbert frowns. Once again, he wishes his father would just open up and lighten his heart. He feels intense hatred for the girl: before, Vati was on such a good mood, even teasing Herbert, and now it's all gone... It has to be her fault, somehow.

"You know I'm not going to stop asking until you talk to me. So you better start spilling now, Vater", he points out, which pulls a small, tired smile from his father. Something fond flashes in the older vampire's eyes as he gazes at Herbert, but the look quickly passes as he again thinks of whatever it is bothering him. Finally, the Count speaks.

_"_I... I couldn't feel anything for her."

"What do you mean?" Herbert inquires as leans closer to his father. A look of endless exhaustion appears on his father's face before Krolock can hide it, and Herbert worries. Sometimes he wonders if he's very cruel for asking his father to linger here with him. It's not out of wanting to torture the Count; he merely needs his father sharing undeath with him just as much as the older vampire needs him to be there.

"I tried, but I couldn't feel. I can't love her. I wanted to, so much... But the only thing I saw when I looked at her was... _prey", _the Count says with a sigh.

"That's what they are, Vati", Herbert answers as gently as he can. He knows of how his father would like to care, the way he used to long ago; it's the ever-growing inability to do so that fills his eyes with such agony.

"I know, son. I know", his father says quietly and rests his forehead against his hand.

Herbert tries to think of something to say, but he can't come up with anything he hasn't already said before. This is just how his poor old father is, always carrying that quiet longing inside his heart. It's a burden, sometimes for the both of them, but it's also something Herbert can't imagine Vati existing without.

"Vater..." he says quietly, wishing there was a way for him to help, to somehow make it better... to have his father smile. "Maybe, if you turn her..."

"Dear son... it is fine", the older vampire answers and catches Herbert's fingers between his hands. He looks down upon them for a moment, and the silence hangs heavy between the father and the son. Suddenly, Herbert feels like he's about to lose his father. The mere idea makes him choke, and a small, pathetic whimper escapes his mouth before he can suppress it. Vater hears it of course, and he lifts his eyes; Herbert could swear they're glistening.

"Don't leave me, Vati. Please", he blurts out, words tumbling in an uncharacteristic manner.

The Count's expression becomes soft, even gentle. It's not something you see often on his face – all the more reason for Herbert to treasure it.

"I won't, son. I'm here with you, as long as you need me", he promises quietly.

"You swear?" Herbert asks. He despises himself for doing this, for making his dear, weary father stay with him, and he tries to think that he only needs more time, just little bit... he will make his father smile, somehow.

"I do, Herbert. Whatever you want", the Count says and gives Herbert's fingers a gentle squeeze before letting go and settling back in his arm chair.

"Thank you, Vater", Herbert whispers.

He _will _make his father smile.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Magda wakes up. How does she come to be in the castle, and how is she received there?

* * *

When Magda wakes up, she's human no more.

She wonders whether she should feel sad because of this, but in the end, she doesn't. The human named Magda might have, could have even cried over her fate, but the vampire named Magda merely laughs.

It's not only because she's now more free than any human will ever be.

Dawn is not far when she rises in undeath, and even though there's now unimaginable hunger inside of her, she knows enough to realize that she needs to find a safe place for the day. The mere idea of day now makes her tremble and snarl in hatred, and only the thought of the soft and comforting darkness makes her calm down enough to think of how to proceed. She can't stay here, a voice in her mind seems to suggest; whether it's the voice of her new mother the night guiding her or just some last remnant of human reason, Magda cannot decide.

So she follows the scent of her sire – although not before devouring a horse at the inn's stable, something she won't tell anyone in the fear of being laughed at – in the hopes of him telling her what to do, where to hide. And the scent takes her _there, _the castle, and she remembers it from a life past. It's a safe place now, and it makes her giggle to think of how she used to fear it so much... No, not her: someone with her name did. For what could the vampire Magda possibly have to be feared?

The castle is full of scents and sights that greet her as if she were someone well-known, returning home after a long journey. She sees others of her kind, recognizes their sharp and wild eyes, and sees herself reflected in those gazes that follow her. They're beautiful and savage and she wants to be like them, be as fierce and unstoppable and free.

And then she is face to face with _him. _

He is tall - taller than any of the others, she thinks, but maybe that's just because of the way he carries himself – and imposing, his long hair falling fine like a dark curtain and his eyes sharply inspecting her. He stands quietly at the top of great staircase, dressed finer than anyone else. He is every bit as beautiful and wild as the others, yet there's also authority and self-control about him she doesn't see in others. Instinctively, she knows who he is, and the memories of the dead girl tell her of the vampire lord – dark and magnificent as the night itself. She knows it can only be this man, this king of the shadows.

"Master", Magda whispers, not sure if she does it out of her own volition. _They can get inside your head_, a voice from far past reminds her, but _they _is the same as she, and for a moment she's not sure if she's in past or present.

His voice, however, brings her back.

"Young Magda", he acknowledges her, his voice low yet still booming, making her shiver with awe. If her heart was still beating, it would race now with excitement. She's entering a whole new world and nothing has ever been quite as thrilling as this. She wants to become like him, to command such presence and have others quiver in the front of her.

"Master, please take me", she asks, and some distant part of her mind is displeased with having to ask, because she's supposed to be free and uncontrollable... yet every look from him seems to demand obedience, and she is torn between wanting to fight back and surrender. For a moment, his gaze challenges her, his eyebrows slightly lifted as if he were amused by her defiance, and she knows she's not going to win if she fights him; for now, she succumbs. Her time will come.

"You're welcome in my house, Magda", he answers, pleased to see her submission, and his voice is almost like a caress. In a blink of an eye, he has descended the stairs and he is in the front of her. The tips of his fingers glide over her cheek and he smiles.

"You will be a queen."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Sarah is getting ready for the ball, and receives a surprising guest.

* * *

The red dress is the most exquisite thing Sarah has ever seen in her life. She can't stop touching the unimaginably soft material or the beautiful embedded stones that look like they could be rather valuable. Her fingers follow the decorations as she marvels at the dress, already imagining how she'll look in it; she'll surely be the most beautiful lady in the midnight ball.

This idea makes her squeal happily in anticipation. Everything is going even better than she could have expected, and her mind is filled with dreams and plans. She will shine like the most brilliant star.

To accompany the dress, she picks long red gloves, a tiara with red stones and a necklace with a jewel carved into the shape of a heart, and it's all worth a queen as far as she's concerned. Then she spreads the garments on her bed and takes a long moment just to admire everything; she hadn't known to expect such luxuries when she first came here... Well, he _does _own a castle and dresses finer than anyone she has ever even imagined, after all. If only the other girls from the village could see her now!

Sarah hasn't even seen _him _today, but she's not too worried: he's probably just busy taking care of preparations, or some other lordly business like that. She's not even sure how these relationships with aristocrats should work, anyway. Maybe he prefers some space for now... to fuel his passion for her when the night comes. Yes, that is probably it.

She's rather excited for the evening and what will happen. He has promised to dance with her all night, which fills her with pleasant anticipation. It has to be more exciting than what she has gotten used to back in home. At first she thinks it would all be better if that silly young man wasn't here: of course he had to run after her although she – at least she thinks so – made it very clear what she was going to do and who it is she's going to dance with... But then, the looks of jealousy on his face at tonight's ball are worth it, Sarah decides. The only way it would be better is if him and the Count got in some sort of fight over her.

Mama would disapprove of such thoughts, but she's not here, and there's nothing wrong with daydreaming, is there? Everything is just so perfect, she has admirers – both of them securely under her thumb – and there's going to be a grand ball... And many after that, she's certain of that. Maybe his excellency will throw another party for her some time soon, if she just asks.

When the day begins to fall and Sarah starts to get ready for the ball, she realizes she has a problem: she's not going to be able to do the laces at the back of her dress. For a moment, she just sits pondering what to do. Should she ask his excellency for help? No, that won't do: Sarah doesn't want him to see her before the ball; she needs to make an impression on him, see his eyes widen at the sight of her, and that is not going to happen if he's there to help her dress up. Then she thinks that servant of his, the ugly hunchback who had also delivered breakfast for her and shown where she could find a bathroom. The thought of that creature touching her makes her shiver with disgust. Isn't a man of the Count's status able to provide nicer servants? Well, she's going to make sure _that _changes as soon as possible. She really needs a handmaid if she's to be presented as a proper mistress for the Count.

In the end, her desire to impress her new lover is stronger than her abhorrence of the hunchback servant, and so she exits her room to shout for the creature (she's not entirely sure Koukol is a human). Koukol appears quickly enough – moving with rather impressive pace, she notes – and listens quietly as she declares her request. The hunchback stares quietly at her for a moment and then turns around, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared; Sarah is left with her mouth hanging open. Does the servant expect her to conjure the dress on herself? She'll tell his excellency of this, and then he is going to send the arrogant creature packing! She needs everything to be perfect and that's not possible without the dress!

Some time later when she's already starting to panic, Koukol returns... but not alone. With him, there's a tall, beautiful blonde woman. It takes a moment for Sarah to realize she knows her: it's none other than Magda! Yet the woman with hunchback is also like a stranger. Her hair, usually neatly braided and down, is now large and wild, pillowing about her face. Sarah is certain Magda had a nice tan when they had last met, even if it is winter, but now all colour is gone: the older woman is almost as pale as the Count. She has forsaken her plain clothes and is now wearing a dark dress instead, finer than anything either of them ever owned back in the village. The most drastic change is in her eyes, however: the friendliness, the warmth – they're gone. Instead, Magda's eyes are cold, even somehow scornful.

And Sarah, instead of being happy to see a familiar face in this old vast castle, feels angry: this is supposed to be _her _victory! It's her ball! Magda must have heard of her departure and gotten jealous, following her here to see if the Count would forget all about Sarah and pick the older woman instead.

"What are you doing here?" Sarah finally demands, after she has recovered from her initial surprise and venomous thoughts.

"I was told you need help with your dress", Magda says finally, her voice somehow thick, as if she had difficult time speaking. Sarah can't imagine why that is, but doesn't wonder about it either – she has bigger concerns than that.

"I do, but that doesn't answer my question. What are you doing here?" Sarah repeats, eyeing the servant woman suspiciously.

"It doesn't matter. Give that dress to me", Magda answers, and her words sound more like an order than a request. Sarah doesn't like her tone one bit, and she makes a mental note of talking to his excellency about how the people around here need to be more respectful of her. Nevertheless, she does turn and hand the dress to Magda.

The older woman's face stays impassive as she holds the dress so that Sarah can slip herself in it.

"Tell me, what are you doing here, really?" she asks again when she turns around so that Magda can start lacing it up for her. For some reason, she's feeling nasty tonight and the words splutter out of her mouth before she can stop and think of them. "Did you get jealous of me? That would make sense, considering you only got a inn-keeper and I have a count."

"Foolish girl, you are, Sarah", Magda answers, her voice barely a whisper. She pulls at lacing so hard that air escapes from Sarah's lungs and she gasps for breath. "You don't even realize what's going to happen? You have no idea what's going on here? Do you actually believe you're here because of some silly infatuation?"

"I know perfectly well what is going on! I'm finally free and have a rich powerful man as my patron, which is more than can be said of you!" Sarah snaps.

Magda pulls at laces again, even harder this time.

"Silly goose!" she hisses. "Don't you see he has no interest whatsoever in you? When he has had what he desires, you'll be deposited. But I... I shall rise. Everyone will see. You know, I suppose I should be grateful for you. If you weren't such a silly, unthinking child, none of it would have happened!"

"Stop! You're hurting me!" Sarah whimpers; Magda is pulling the laces so hard that the younger woman fears she's going to suffocate... Suddenly, the blond woman lets the laces go loose, and Sarah can feel her cool breath on her neck...

"Oh yes, it's going to hurt... but only for a moment. Don't be scared", Magda whispers in her ear, and then Sarah can feel the older woman's mouth on her skin...

"MAGDA!" an unfamiliar voice yells from the door and Magda jumps back. Both of them turn to face the door, only to see a young man with long silver-blond hair standing there. He's dressed in a fine form-fitting suit, made of exquisite lavender fabric. He's rather good-looking, and the way he carries himself seems to suggest that he knows that very well.

"Get out", he snarls to Magda, who leaves the room with a graceful gait Sarah hasn't noticed about her before. When she's gone, the young man turns his face at Sarah. She can't really decide how to read his expression, but she does get the impression that he's not particularly fond of her. "Are you quite ready?"

"No, she didn't finish..." she answers. For some reason, her voice sounds choked and weak. He huffs and with two long strides, he's in the front of her.

"Turn around. I'll do it", he orders and again Sarah finds herself mentally brooding, forgetting all about her confrontation: the Count's castle seems to be full of overbearing people. When he starts working on the laces, she doesn't ask why he's so good at it, but she does wonder who he is. The only thing she can do, however, is catching her breath and making sure her lungs are still in working order.

"What is wrong with her?" she finally asks when the stranger is fastening the laces.

"Nothing serious. Now get ready. Vater will be expecting you to join us soon", the blond man says and before Sarah can voice her surprise, he's already gone.

She doesn't know why, but when she looks at her reflection in the small handmirror, her face is white.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Sometimes lessons in obedience are needed, when you're dealing with vampires.

* * *

_Death looks good on her, _Krolock thinks idly when he watches Magda emerge from Sarah's bedroom. Still fresh from life, yet already one of night's own, her new vampiric nature is pulsing through her. Her blond hair is just as wild as herself now, and she is beautiful. Not only because of her features, but also because night is on her and it makes her radiate. Strangely enough, she reminds him of Herbert, of how the boy would glow with the new splendour of the night...

_She'll be a magnificent one. _

She's an unexpected addition to his flock, but not entirely unwelcome. While offering a place in his castle, he had seen the defiance in her eyes... but then, it's hard to deny him when he requests something, and creatures like her shouldn't be enslaved completely anyway. Some, like her sire, need it. But her? She will be a queen, like he promised. Nevertheless, all in good time.

"Master", she calls at the sight of him, knowing he has heard everything. The words come out thick – she hasn't yet gotten used to talking with her new fangs. She tries an innocent face that could have worked on him if he hadn't been dealing with unruly vampires for hundreds of years.

"I told you not to talk to her", he reminds her. Perhaps it's immoderate to expect her to control herself so soon, but he'd rather have her educated quickly than let her run wild and thus make a savage beast out of her. She has promise beyond such fate. Krolock might himself essentially regret being a vampire, but he has also seen how some are as if created for the night, and Magda is certainly one of those.

"You did, Master", she agrees, still wearing that innocent expression, but it's slowly turning rather coy as she realizes angelic faces are not going to work on him. He is tempted to smile, but he rejects it: instead, he glares at her.

"And I forbade you to drink from her. She belongs to me, tonight, and you eat only what is given to you", he tells her, his voice turning harsher with every syllable. If she could go pale, she would. "I do not tolerate disobedience, Magda."

"Yes, my Master. I'm sorry – I didn't mean to..." she whispers and with one swift movement, he's in the front of her. He grabs a handful of her hair and forces her head back.

"You eat when I say so", he snarls into her ear. "You sleep when I order. And you do as I will. As long as you obey, you shall flourish; cross me, and you will walk in undeath no more. Is this clear?"

"Y-yes", she whimpers, and he can see the submission in her eyes. It is harsh, he knows, but he considers it necessary for such young vampires. Maybe, if someone had been stern on him so long ago, he wouldn't have killed his own wife.

He lets his grip loosen on her hair, turning it into something almost like a caress. He plants a kiss on her full lips, repressing a smile when he sees her eyes turn hazy with unexpected pleasure. _First, make them fear you. Then, make them love you. _

"Good", he whispers gently, and bares his wrist, biting it open with his own fangs. "Now... drink from me, young one."

Magda obeys happily.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **The last minutes of Sarah Chagal's life.

* * *

In the end, Magda is right.

When the Count sinks his teeth in Sarah's neck, she wishes she had listened, had done something, had never left the safety of her home.

Now it's too late.

Colours flash, and the growling noises of hungry vampires fill her ears as she is sucked of her blood. Her limbs tremble as he swallows her life in large gulps, gripping her tight, and she can't even fight back. When she starts to get weak and her head begins to spin, he holds her even tighter.

She is cold and tired and all she wants to do then is sleep, she doesn't even care about his betrayal... if it's even betrayal, for he never promised her anything but darkness, she recalls...

It was all in her head. It was just dreams, and not the kind he shared.

World goes black and the last thing she sees is Alfred's terrified face.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **_Sarah, eyes glowing and Alfred, even in death going where she will._ It is the first night of Alfred's unlife, and the world is more beautiful than it ever was.

* * *

Lost in the woods, they stumble forth without even knowing their destination. Sarah is leading Alfred by hand, and he happily follows her, like he did in life. He follows without asking any questions, although it doesn't look like she knows where she's taking him. Human Alfred would have been worried by this, but not the new him, not the free and strong and fast Alfred. Perhaps she's even more altered that he is, so that she doesn't know the location of her past life, or maybe she's just too dazed to think... Alfred is, at any rate.

They lose the professor at some point, Alfred doesn't even know when, but he finds it hard to care for such thing. What does it matter, really, for he is in love with night and her and he's never been like this? Every now and then, they fall down together, and they bite and kiss and caress as they roll on the snowy floor of the forest. Night is on them, _in _them, and if Alfred can think of anything, it's pity for the mortals who will never feel _this. _

It is because of this haze that they barely notice the passing of time, and suddenly they can feel that horrifying sting they instinctively know to link with the nearing sunrise. With it, they realize they have no sanctuary, and they cannot make one for themselves: the ground is frozen and too hard for them to dig a safe hole for the day.

Alfred is starting to panic at the thought of dawn when all of a sudden, a tall dark shape materializes as if out of nowhere. Both him and her know this presence, although there are things they haven't noticed before. Alfred can remember the dead human in him being intimidated by this man, this creature; some of that remain, but he's also very curious and somehow tempted. There's a call about the old vampire's presence, something that demands their attention and obedience and even love, and Alfred is too young to realize that it's their shared bloodline – it's even stronger for her, for the old vampire is her sire. They're now connected in ways humans can never understand, and he'll be always there, even for Alfred; he's the source from where this new darkness flows.

And when he beckons, both of them follow blindly. Sarah, eyes glowing and Alfred, even in death going where she will. He's not fearful, not anymore, and the newly released beast in him yearns for all the dark secrets he can learn from the old vampire.

She takes his hand once more, and together they follow Krolock into the eternal night.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **This piece takes place after the actual story and as such, I'm not sure if it fits so well in the same context as the earlier one-shots. Anyway, this is something from Alfred's point of view, after the story has ended, and what being a vampire might mean to him.

* * *

Alfred often thinks about being a vampire.

He isn't sure if it's a normal thing for a vampire to do, to ponder on one's existence like he does. In any case, he never asks _her _what she thinks of it, for he feels such questions are beyond her mind. Not that she's not smart; she just sees the world different than him.

Alfred believes that most – if not all – people go more or less mad when they are turned into vampires. He at least did, and sometimes he has hard time when he tries to remember those first nights when he was following his new heightened instincts instead of anything that could be called reason. It's all just a confusing mix of sensations and scents and unconnected imagery, with the cool voice of the Master to guide them through it.

Some vampires stay that way, or at least very similar. Others don't. Alfred doesn't know why this is, and no one seems to have an answer. There's even vampires like Magda, who just seem like they were born for this... _unlife. _If Alfred ever envies her, it's for the way she has something resembling control, even in the beginning when he and Sarah were little more than mindless beasts.

Little by little, the world starts to make sense again, and even though the hunger never quite disappears, he begins to remember another life... another Alfred. After a while, his existence is not just defined by the primal instincts. He begins to feel again, to think, to question. For him and Sarah, it takes a while to adjust, because their bloodline is so strong. This is why the Master rarely turns people anymore... and it's also why his vampiric offspring have a special status among his flock.

Sarah is a happy vampire, like Herbert is. They both enjoy the darkness, the eternal life, and the pleasures of night. They don't long for past or yearn for lost things. Humanity is one such thing.

But Alfred is different. He begins to realize this as he gets used to being a vampire. He doesn't enjoy the unlife like she does, and there are _what ifs _that often plague his mind on that moment just before death claims him for the day hours. Oh yes, he does indulge in the pleasures only vampire can experience, but they do not fill his heart like they fill hers. Sometimes he wonders if he should hate her for making him this way, but in the end, he doesn't. He knows the hunger, and especially how it was in the beginning. He just happened to be there one nearest to her.

Alfred can't even hate _him, _the source of his vampire life, the one they at first call the Master. If it wasn't for the professor, he'd never have left his home, would never have ended up in the castle... and if he hadn't been so desperate to save Sarah, who never even wanted to be saved, he would have left these lands human. The Master isn't even the one who bit him, although he might be considered responsible for it. In the end, it's just a sum of coincidences. All of them were just doing what was their nature to do. For the vampire Alfred, this is moderately easy to accept because essentially, all vampires are slaves of their own nature.

And maybe Alfred's inability to hate the old vampire is because they're the same. If it's because of their shared bloodline, or just a coincidence, Alfred doesn't know. At any rate, they both have tasted melancholy and taken it as their lover. And little by little, _he _isn't just "the Master" anymore, but also someone with a name and something more under that cover of power and authority. This awareness seems to grow with Alfred's self-control.

There are many things Alfred doesn't know or understand about himself, or about being a vampire, but he does think the blood between them speaks silently, and it's because of that he sometimes sees inside the older vampire. He's fairly certain other vampires under Krolock's roof don't see him like he does... except for maybe Herbert. Sarah doesn't in any case. Perhaps it's because Krolock gives out more of himself to him than the others – at least he feels so, even if he can't even begin to guess what would be the reason for that. And sometimes, when the old vampire looks at Alfred, it's like the young one can hear the other speaking without words, of days long gone and lost loves and how it felt to walk under the sun.

_Humanity, _he whispers in apprehension. Krolock looks back at him, almost as if he were smiling, although not in a happy way. They don't exchange more words, but there seems to be silent understanding between them, the kind Alfred never quite reaches with Sarah.

Much later, if Alfred was to point out the particular moment when he came to love the older vampire, this is probably it.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **I have to confess, this all took a really unexpected turn. It's not at all where I thought this thing would be going, and it's even more confusing because I'm not even that much into Krolock/Alfred, but that's what this thing is turning out to be more or less. I guess it all just got away from my hands and the story wrote itself. What's more, I actually sort of even like this. Hope you do too! Rating: T. Pairing: Krolock/Alfred

* * *

He should probably have seen it coming all along. Not that there were signs to warn him beforehand, because the older vampire was usually rather reserved when it came to that sort of things – even with Sarah. Then again, it wasn't love what he had with her, and that was the reason Alfred could bear her occasionally sharing the Count's sarcophagus. Enough of his old self seemed to have survived, to have him care of such thing so much.

But he and the Count were the same, so perhaps it was always just a question of time. In any case, when you're a vampire, who is to better understand your longings than another of your own kind?

It happens one night, when Herbert has Sarah out for hunting. Not out of wanting to spend any time with her, but mostly because her restlessness has worn his patience so thin that in the end he actually decides to go and hunt with her himself, just to "make her shut up", like he says. And so Alfred is left alone with the Count.

He finds the older vampire in the sitting room, staring out of the window, and all he intends is to ask if he could go out too, maybe find something to drink or just to enjoy the quiet night. It's not that young vampires are explicitly forbidden from going out (as long as they keep the peace between the castle and the village) – Alfred just somehow feels it's needed. That might just be a remnant of his old life, where he were used to having to ask permission for every thing.

When the vampire turns around, there's weariness about his eyes and face, more than Alfred has ever seen before, and for some reason it breaks his heart. He hates to see such heavy melancholy on his blood-kin's face, and a part of him can't decide if it's because it reflects his own or because he thinks he's seeing his own future there.

Maybe his request shines clearly on his face, or maybe Krolock just reads his mind, but he talks before Alfred can even say anything.

"You can drink from me."

And before Alfred can even feel particularly surprised, he's already taking of his jacket and undoing the cravat around his neck, exposing the pale skin for the younger vampire, and it's not something he can reject. He has seen the Count sometimes offering his wrist for those he favours, but never his neck, and suddenly Alfred trembles with anticipation. Having bitten Sarah numerous times on her neck, he knows just how pleasurable it is... There's something special about biting another vampire, although Alfred can't explain why or how.

Krolock sits down in an armchair, in shirtsleeves with his fine coat hung over the back of the chair, and beckons Alfred with a swift movement of his hand. The younger vampire obeys, and although he's supposed to be the one drinking here, he doesn't feel like he's in control. Instead, he feels somehow vulnerable as he approaches the Count. This is not happening out of his volition, but because the older vampire allows it: Alfred is still the underling, and Krolock the master.

For a moment, he hesitates in the front of the sitting man, knowing the only comfortable way to do this is to sit down in Krolock's lap. He looks cautiously at the Count, who only nods quietly. Touching him in such manner doesn't seem right; he seems to be beyond such things, always too far away even if he's physically right there. Alfred gathers his courage and finally settles down on Krolock's lap.

The older vampire's face remains impassive, making it impossible for Alfred to figure what he might be thinking. He still hasn't learned to read minds, but apparently that is nothing to be worried of: these things take time. Herbert says: "_Even with Vati's bloodline, you need to learn to walk before you can run." _

After final moment of hesitation, Alfred presses his mouth against the older vampire's neck. It's cool and smooth, just like he would have expected, and for one second, he just enjoys the feel of the bare skin under his lips, the delicious expectation just before that moment when the hunger will be briefly satisfied. Then his vampiric senses take over and he sinks his fangs in the Count's flesh.

Filtered through Krolock's veins, the blood tastes like night and the moon and velvet and winter, and it's even more pleasurable than Alfred expected; it's almost as if he could _taste _the very passing of time and the summers and thunderstorms and touches hundreds of years ago, almost see faces of people long gone and love them like the Count once had. He latches on the wound he has just made and drinks deeply, very nearly seeing stars as the blood runs down his throat and fills him. Stopping is hard, but he is able to do it with some firm coaxing from the older vampire, and when he licks the last drops from the wound, he realizes that the Count's arms have sneaked around him while he were drinking. At first, he freezes in confusion and wonders what to do, but then he pulls back just a little, so that he can meet Krolock's eyes. Something is moving in those deep pools of dark grey and he's mesmerized by it, so he just sits there staring.

"Was it good?" the Count asks quietly.

"I've never tasted anything quite like it", Alfred mumbles, sligthly light-headed, and the older vampire smiles. This time, his smile is without sadness.

Not saying another word, he kisses Alfred's bloodstained mouth clean.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **It was bound to happen sooner or later. Only, it is something that could destroy them both.

* * *

One thing leads to another, like they usually do.

In the end, it's all very exciting and passionate and Alfred feels that if his heart was still beating, it would burst; he wouldn't have expected to find such fire in the older vampire. There's desperation about the way Krolock touches him and Alfred isn't sure what it all means, but it's almost like it was the last night of their unlives and he is trying hard to make it all count.

He wonders how his blood tastes to Krolock, and if it's as pleasurable for him as it was for Alfred. At least he thinks that the low groans are sounds of delight, and the deep rumble of them is somehow very exciting and makes him yearn for more. After Sarah, this all is very strange yet thrilling, and not only because it's not a woman who is with him; and he can now see where she learned all those tricks that used to drive him to the point of madness in the beginning of their relationship.

The experience is everything and nothing he would have expected, and he's glad to have it, even if in the end it overwhelms him for some reason and he ends up curled in the Count's embrace, sobbing against the older vampire's neck. He's not sure why he's crying and it's not probably something one should do after being loved so completely, but Krolock seems to understand as he strokes Alfred's hair and hums quietly.

After some time, he calms down and just lays his head down on the Count's chest – there's really not that much space in the sarcophagus. He knows it might be the only time he ever will, even with how he loves the Count and wants to see him smile, but maybe that's the point of it: he loves Krolock too much to allow it. For what else can it do for them than to destroy them both? Alfred fears their melancholies will only fuel each other until they are completely devoured... He knows how the Count sometimes yearns for the final release, how he would consider it a long-needed rest, but Alfred still doesn't want to be the one to cause it.

Nevertheless, tonight belongs to them, tonight he loves the Count more than anything, and when Alfred curls up against the older vampire and finally feels the death coming to claim him, he experiences a curious sense of peace he hasn't had in some time.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **The night after. There are regrets, but not for Alfred – even if that one night is going to change all their unlives for good.

* * *

When Sarah and Herbert find them, still locked in an embrace in the small space of the sarcophagus, all hell breaks loose.

Sarah is furious, her eyes blazing and she's shouting like a madwoman. In her mind, both the Count and Alfred belong to her (not the other way around) and it never even enters her mind that the two men don't necessarily share her vision. She sees no conflict in having them both there for her, and just as always, she believes she's the one in control. Like a thoughtless child she is, she expects everything to go her way.

So when the two men in her unlife share something she cannot participate in, it drives her crazy. Alfred would like to point out that he never objected when she had her affairs with Krolock, but in the end he decides it would only make her even angrier. And as the Count, who is the only one able to control her when she's in the middle of one of her tantrums, is otherwise occupied, Alfred says nothing.

Herbert is even worse. There are tears in his eyes and he screams things like _"how could you" _and _"you knew how much I wanted him and then you do this right under my nose", _until he just accuses the Count of being _"a heartless beast". _Alfred is surprised to see just how deep the viscount's feelings for him actually go, and he wonders if he should feel bad for not being able to return this attraction. After those words, Herbert proceeds into a litany of all kinds of insults – half of which Alfred didn't even know to exist. Krolock's face remains blank for the most of his son's outburst and he doesn't say anything, but Alfred thinks that just for one fleeting moment he can see something deeply wounded in the older vampire's dark grey eyes.

At this point, Sarah has forgotten all about her own rage and is gaping at the the two Krolocks now. Herbert certainly has had his share of tantrums, but never has it been something like this. Maybe it's that or perhaps the Count just wishes to settle this with his son without Alfred and Sarah gawking at them, but he commands the younger vampires to leave. There's an edge to his voice, something scary even, and the younger vampires leave as quickly as they are able.

Alfred doesn't know what passes between the father and the son, but when he sees them the next time, both of them look very unhappy.

Yet, for all the pain that one night seems to have caused, Alfred is still convinced it's one of the best nights of his life and he would not change one bit of it.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **The aftermath, part 2: Changes. _He used to think that if he were to live this unlife at all, it would be with her or with no one, never._

* * *

Not long after, Sarah leaves.

She says it's because of "the lack of trust". Obviously she means _that night. _She's still jealous and angry of what happened between her sire and Alfred. She doesn't say it out loud, but somehow Alfred understands. He's not sure if that's because he's finally starting to learn to read minds or just because he knows her so well, but that night when she and Herbert found them, she saw something on Alfred and the Count's faces she hasn't seen on either of them when they've been with her.

And that is something Sarah can't live with, not as long as she stays. One could say she's finally growing up.

It doesn't mean Alfred doesn't love her. Of course he does, but he is also discovering that loving her doesn't necessarily mean he can't have feelings – different than what he has for her – for others. It's really complicated, and he doesn't understand it himself either, but he muses it's something that comes along with living forever. Only, these feelings seem to be for the completely wrong people. But still, he can't feel regret.

Before, Alfred would have tried to make her stay. He would have begged and pleaded on his knees, and if it looked like she wasn't going to change her mind, he would have asked to come along.

Now he doesn't. A small part of him feels that it's a reason on its own for her to go. He used to think that if he were to live this unlife at all, it would be with her or with no one, never. Now he can't even say when this has changed... when his existence stopped depending on hers.

And so he just watches from the castle wall as she leaves and although he feels empty, he doesn't want to go after her either.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **The aftermath, part 3: Realization.

* * *

After Sarah is gone, it all changes.

The castle is different somehow, and his vampire family isn't what it used to be anymore. Even Magda seems changed, although the occurences leading to this state of things never had anything to do with her.

Sometimes, when Herbert thinks Alfred is not watching, the younger vampire can see a hard glint in those blue eyes. He laughs less and seems to suddenly prefer his own company – or Magda's – over his father or Alfred. And the Count is different too: more distant and cold than he ever used to be. Nevertheless, there are moments when Krolock looks at him and there's this unexplainable expression in his eyes, the kind that makes Alfred feel just slightly regretful of how this all has turned out, but for the most parts, there's nothing between them. Some dawns, when Alfred is feeling lonely in his coffin that he used to share with Sarah, he thinks of crawling into the Count's sarcophagus. He never does.

He wonders if he should feel regret for that night, especially when he looks at Herbert, but in the end he can't. All he is able to feel is gratitude.

And when Krolock looks at him in that certain way, he is tempted. Oh yes, the temptation is sweeter than anything. But when he stops to think of it, he also knows he cannot give in. Not only because it would kill Herbert, but because Herbert's unhappiness would also lead to the Count's unhappiness. In a way, it already has, and Alfred doesn't want to make it any worse.

All there is on that road is destruction. _For now._

This is also why he has to leave before it's too late.

One night, a lifetime after Alfred became a vampire, he rises from his coffin and starts packing. It doesn't take long, for he doesn't have many belongings. Material questions seem rather insignificant at this point anyway. He's not scared of leaving, although he doesn't have any idea where to go or what to do. Maybe he'll go and find Sarah. Or maybe not – he doesn't know if she wants to see him yet.

The Count might have taken his humanity, but he also gave something in turn: courage.

When he is done, he thinks of who he needs to say goodbye to. Herbert pops in his mind, but he's not sure how that confrontation would end. Only one name remains, and after giving himself one last moment of dreaming how it could be if he didn't have to leave, he ascends the stairs, passes through the quiet hallways and knocks at the door of the sitting room.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **The aftermath, part 4: Goodbye.

* * *

Krolock is at the window, like he often is, and he turns around when Alfred enters the room. For the longest moment, the two of them just stare at each other, and the older vampire does again that trick of beforehandedly guessing what's going on in Alfred's mind.

"You came to say goodbye", he states.

"Yes", Alfred agrees and puts down the small suitcase where he has stuffed what few belongings he has.

The Count regards him for a long moment, his pale face as unreadable as it always is. Then he cocks his head just slightly.

"Why?" he asks. This is not something he wishes to find from Alfred's mind – he wants to hear the words spoken out loud.

"Because... my staying here would kill you. I... I need to learn to control my demons. And Herbert needs to heal. I have to go before he starts hating the both of us. I think that... you can live without me, but not without him", Alfred explains slowly. It doesn't make that much sense in his mind either, but this is the best he can manage for now. _It's hard to say goodbye. _

But maybe it does make more sense than he thought, for the Count nods quietly, and the thoughtful expression on his face seems to suggest that he agrees. He crosses the space between them, moving as gracefully as he always does, and only stops when he's in the front of the younger vampire.

"Then you have to go", he whispers, takes Alfred's face between his hands and kisses him for the last time.

It takes Alfred's breath away, and he allows himself this one final moment; he kisses back and lives forever in this one instance of true peace where it's just him and the one he has come to love against all odds. When Krolock pulls back and looks at him, Alfred can see countless of tempting futures reflected in those dark pools, and just one second, he lets himself be weak. But then he finds his willpower again and he lets his hands that were gripping the older vampire's shoulders fall down. _I can only love you by leaving. _

"May I ask for something?" Alfred asks, his voice faint and weak.

"Of course", the Count promises.

"Just... tell Herbert that... I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't love him", the younger vampire whispers.

"I shall tell him so", Krolock nods. Then his eyes become doubtful for a moment. "Are you... do you feel regret?"

"No. I'm not. I wouldn't change anything. I'm... thankful", Alfred insists and is relieved when he sees a smile on the Count's face. He's actually kind of nice-looking when he smiles, Alfred notes, and plants one more kiss on the other man's lips.

A smallest of sighs passes between them, and then it's over.

"We'll meet again. Some time. You know where to find me, my dear Alfred", Krolock says. Alfred opens his mouth to say his goodbyes, but the Count presses one bony finger on his mouth. "No, don't say it. Just go. Go, and flourish."

Alfred flashes a smile, and then he goes.

He's not afraid anymore.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **The aftermath, part 5: Forgiveness.

I originally meant to finish this piece with the last part, but soon realized one more scene needed to be written to close everything up the way I wanted. Here comes the final part of the series, this time with Krolock's point of view. Thanks for all who took time to read and review!

* * *

Krolock stands on the wall of his castle long after Alfred's figure has disappeared into the shadows of the woods. He thinks of many things while he' standing there: death, forever, loving and losing... and, surprisingly, _moving on. _

Of course there's melancholy, but there's also something almost like... _hope. _It's not something he's used to feel and for the longest time, the only thing he can do is to marvel. He's not sure if it's a lasting thing, or how well it mixes with his dark nature, but for now... it feels almost _good. _

Alfred is right, of course. The Count can live without him, but not without Herbert. He has known this for the most of his vampire life, and it's not something he wishes to compromise with, not any more than he already has. Alfred is also right in leaving, even if there's unexpected pain about it... But also hope for reunion. The world might be changed by then, and perhaps there will not be anything left between them when that night comes, but Krolock doesn't bother himself with such things. There's no reason to ponder on matters that can only be revealed with time.

With a final sigh, he wishes well for the young vampire, descends from the wall, and walks slowly back inside.

Herbert waits for him at the bottom of the stairs. The Count halts and seeks his son's eyes, wishing to know what the boy is thinking but not wanting to invade his mind. Herbert looks back quietly, and for a long moment they just stand there in silence. It hasn't been the same between them ever since _that night, _which scares the older vampire. If all the other things change, Herbert has always remained constant... until now.

Then, after a while, Herbert lets out a small cry and dashes into his father's arms. Suddenly, all is well again, and the Count can feel a heavy weight being lifted from his heart. _Alfred is right._

By the way Herbert is trembling, he wonders if the boy is crying, and that might well be it, so he holds the younger vampire tightly until his son calms down a bit. It's really amazing, how Herbert hasn't even said a word yet, and everything is all right already, because how could possibly words shouten in anger mean anything when Herbert really is the most precious thing he has in this world?

"Vati... I'm sorry. Really. I'm so sorry", the boy whispers after a moment, although the older vampire isn't even sure if it's Herbert who should be apologizing.

"It's fine, son. It's all fine", the Count answers gently and his son looks up to him. Indeed, there's tears in Herbert's eyes and Krolock marvels at how the boy is able to feel everything so strongly. _Then again, so had been his mother. _

The younger vampire sniffs and wipes his eyes, and then looks at his father with clearer eyes.

"Did you... did you really love him?" Herbert asks. "If you truly did..."

"I suppose I did, at least for the moment. But it doesn't matter now", Krolock answers, and it's surprisingly easy to say those words. Herbert will forgive him once the boy realizes what gift Alfred has given to the Count... but now is not a time to speak of it.

"I want you to be happy, Vati. I really do. I'm sorry I forgot about that for a while", Herbert says quietly, lowering his gaze in shame.

"I know that, son. Don't worry... And you know that I am sorry too – it was not my intention to cause you pain", the Count says and lifts the boy's chin so that their gazes meet. A tentative smile spreads on the boy's face.

"I realize that now, Vati. And I hold no grudge. All is forgiven", he says. "I'm like a cat – I land always on my feet."

Krolock nods silently, wishing mutely he could be more like his son, and then he can feel...

"You'll stay with me?" the younger vampire asks quietly, still in the need of being convinced.

Krolock smiles, and this time, it's genuine.

"I will."

And for the first time in many years, the idea of keeping that promise fills him with a sense of calm.

_FIN._


End file.
